Chasing the Wind
by Elizaellen
Summary: This is three part short that explores Michaela and Sully’s thoughts and feelings during the episode Running Ghost with an expanded ending of the episode.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. The rights to those characters and to the show belong to the creators of the show, to CBS, The Sullivan Company and to A&E.**

**Chasing the Wind**

_This is a three part short that explores Michaela and Sully's thoughts during the episode Running Ghost with a continuation of the ending._

The night was dark, pitch black with the moon and stars hidden from view by a thick cloud cover. With no moonlight shining in, she could barely make out his form on the bed. Pulling her shawl around her, she turned the lamp on the table up a little so that she could see him better. Since the first night when things had been so touch and go, she had left the lamps burning through the night. Now she could see that his eyelids were shut and his breathing regular. Yet she knew that this wasn't a natural sleep but rather a drug induced one. His body needed the rest but because he was in so much pain he found sleeping almost impossible unless Michaela gave him medication to help with the pain and to encourage his sleep.

Her hand rested on the side of the bed close to his own hand laying outside of the sheet. Using her pointer finger, she traced around the edge of his hand several times, letting the feel of the fabric beneath her finger soothe her. There was something comforting about the cool crispness of the sheet and she eagerly embraced it. In all honesty, she was tired and that was why the sheet seemed so inviting. Part of her longed to stretch out on the bed and close her eyes but greater than that was the need to be awake in case he awoke. That is why even now she sat in the rocking chair, never far from the bedside, catching a little sleep here and there but constantly staying on alert to any sound of pain or discomfort on his part.

Taking a staggered breath, she placed her pointer finger on the back of his hand. Gently she stroked the tan skin, being careful not to wake him. She couldn't explain the urge she had to constantly touch him, to assure that he was healing, that he was getting better. Tears sprang to her eyes once again as she hastily wiped them on the sleeve of her robe. Her mind drifted back to the first night she had spent in this chair, the first night she had seen him like this.

From the minute Cloud Dancing had brought him here, bloody and beaten, she had trouble controlling her emotions. Just seeing Sully's form lying in his arms had horrified her. There was sadness and anger swirling around inside of her chest robbing the air from her lungs and making her feel dizzy. His hair, his long hair was matted to his head with dried blood caked in it. His face, the face that she had memorized every feature on, was swollen almost beyond recognition. "What happened?" she asked, the words rushing out of her mouth as she struggled to make sense of the scene before her. Yet she barely heard Cloud Dancing's answer as he laid him out on the bed. Uncontrolled thoughts raced through her brain while she pondered how anyone could beat another human being like this. This couldn't be she thought to herself. This wasn't happening, not now – not to Sully.

Softly, she brushed back his hair to get a better look at the swelling around his eye. Laying a gentle hand on the side of his face, she touched the area imagining how much pain he must be in. She swallowed hard, again finding it difficult to believe that this was really happening. The fingers on her hand were shaking and she tried her best to steady them as she turned her eyes to his chest. Was he breathing was her first thought. A brief moment of joy surged up in her when she thought she saw his chest rise and then fall. If he was still breathing, he was alive.

Cloud Dancing was speaking still and she faintly heard that Sully had asked for her when he had found him. He had asked for her. Normally that would have thrilled her as it did ever time he chose to be with her or to spend time with the family. But this was different- this was life or death. She couldn't help but think that he had spoken her name because he knew how serious his injuries were. That one thought made her doubt her own eyes. What if he wasn't breathing? What if he was already…

"Matthew get me my medical bag," she exclaimed then turned to Cloud Dancing. "I'm going to need your help," she said wondering if the next few moments would confirm her worst fear. Matthew handed her the bag and she sat it on the bed beside him, her fingers fumbling with the clasps as she tried to block out the unpleasant thoughts from her mind. Quickly, her fingers closed around her stethoscope and she lifted one end to her ear while laying the bell against Sully's chest.

The gentle lub-dub of his heart resounded in her ears as the first tear slipped unbidden down her cheek. The minute she had opened the door to see him like this, the emotion had risen up in her yet she had tried hard to fight it back. Professional – she needed to be professional she continued to tell herself over and over. Yet now that she knew he was indeed alive, the thought that he hovered close to death weighed down on her and she couldn't fight the rising knot in her throat any longer. She wiped at the tears but they continued to fall and she knew she would simply have to pretend that they didn't.

That entire night, Cloud Dancing and she had kept a vigil. The silence was broken occasionally by Cloud Dancing's calling out to the spirits and the strangled sobs that escaped Michaela's mouth as she fervently prayed asking God to spare him. Three times during the night she had panicked that he wasn't breathing, only to find herself reassured moments later. In the wee hours of the morning, she had finally managed to drift off to sleep, hoping against hope that he would at least be awake when she woke up.

There was no such luck for as she rose shortly after dawn, she found his condition unchanged from the last time she had checked on him. She knew the longer he remained unconscious, the worse the damage was and that frightened her more than she even thought possible. Michaela had examined him again that morning by the light of the sun, looking for any new areas of swelling or bruising she may have missed the night before. Starting with his face and working her way down, she washed his wounds once again to stay off infection of any kind. Her fingers lingered on his lips as she softly dabbed at the splits inflicted upon him. From this position, she could feel the soft tickle of his breath on the back of her hand and it reassured her.

Moving the sheet down to his waist, she examined the bruising on his chest and arms. She was sure he had a couple broken ribs and she silently thanked God that they had not punctured his lung. Frustration set in as she had no way to know what other injuries were on the inside – was he bleeding internally, were other bones broken – she had no way to know these answers. Desperately, she needed him to wake up. Running her hand over his chest, she felt her own heart quicken within her. Even with him injured as he was or maybe more so because he was injured, she couldn't stop thinking about him and wondering what exactly their relationship was. Every time he was near, her heart sped up exactly like it was now. Sometimes he would look at her, his eyes lingering on her face making her stomach twist into knots. This was crazy, she chided herself. Certainly this was no time to be thinking about such things when he still hovered so near to death. Or maybe it was exactly the time to be thinking about such things because when she considered the possibility of losing him it was clear that her feelings ran deeper than she was even aware.

And so the second day of waiting had passed. Still Cloud Dancing remained with them, allowing Michaela to get a few stolen hours of sleep that night. During one point, she had actually dreamed that Sully was awake. He had sat up in bed, his injuries remarkably healed. Yet when she had awoken, the hope that had surged up inside of her chest hastily departed leaving the stinging emptiness that made her tears fall once again.

That morning, she had pushed herself to continue the multitude of tasks that needed to be done. The children were with Sully keeping watch over him with strict instructions to get her if needed. Cloud Dancing was there too but she hoped he was resting. Outside, she had started a fire and put on a pot of water to boil the cloths that she needed to sterilize. Another day without any sign that he would wake soon was too much for her to face and so she tried to numb her brain for awhile - to think about anything else. Yet just as she did, Matthew stepped out onto the front porch and said "Dr. Mike, Sully's wakin' up."

Hitching up her skirt, she ascended the stairs and pushed into the house. His unswollen eyelid fluttered open as a moan escaped his lips. Joy flooded her insides and she felt like crying from the sheer happiness of the moment. "Sully," she said warmly seeing the confusion in his eyes. "Cloud Dancing brought you here. He found you near Rankin's camp." A flicker of remembrance flashed across his face and she nodded her head slightly. Her hand went to his shoulder knowing that it was urgent that she find out what was wrong with him.

"Sully, listen to me. Now that you're awake, it's very important that I examine you, check for internal injuries." He painfully nodded his head to show he understood as Michaela moved her hand to lower the sheet. She began with the arm that lay closest to her, lifting it slightly. Sully cried out and though she knew he was hurt, she also realized she needed to be able to differentiate the degree of pain. "I know you're in terrible pain but please try to distinguish for me the differing degrees. It's important." Methodically she worked her way across his chest, pressing down on different places as she examined him. The left side didn't seem to be too bad but when she pressed on the right, he cried out and his hand came up to grab for hers. It startled her even though she had half been expecting it. The thought that she had hurt him even though she knew it was necessary made her cringe.

Quickly, she made her way down the side of the bed, again lifting the sheet to examine his legs. The bruised area on his left thigh was her next target and again she pushed down on it, lightly at first but increasing the pressure when he did not respond. Yet when there was still no response, she panicked. Her eyes flew to her medical bag as she quickly retrieved an instrument to run down his legs. Down the inside of the left leg and still he was quiet. Down the inside of the right leg and no sound escaped his lips. Her eyes flew to his, watching as he gingerly lifted his neck to observe what she was doing.

"I can't move my legs," he said his breath ragged as fear set in. Michaela moved to his feet and ran the instrument over his soles. "I can't fell them."

"That?" she asked hoping maybe just maybe….

Yet the look on his face quickly confirmed her fears. "No," he moaned shaking his head and gasping for breath.

Moving back now so that he could see her better, she knew he wanted to know what was going on. His voice was questioning her and she willed herself to focus. Paralysis. She needed to tell him but she scarcely wanted to accept it herself. Would it be permanent? Would he recover? There was no way to know. She swallowed hard before answering him as she repeated over and over in her mind- be professional, be professional.

She knew she was slowly losing the battle though and as she turned to get him some pain medication, the tears had fallen again as they were doing now. The thought of this man unable to walk broke her heart. Inside she held out hope that it was only temporary but it was not enough to stay off the worry that crept in. Already, she had seen the depression on his face as Cloud Dancing left to seek a root that he believed could help him. Already, she had watched as he had turned his face away from hers unwilling to meet her eyes. Already, she had heard him refuse to eat anything even when she had insisted.

Shaking her head in frustration, she laid her head back against the chair and let the tears flow down her face. Bringing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them hugging them to her body. Logically she knew there was nothing more she could do. She knew there was nothing she should have done differently but still the frustration at seeing him so helpless overwhelmed her. The man that she looked to so many times for protection, for help, for companionship… what if he never… what if this was his lot in life? Wasting no more time, she dropped to her knees, pushing the rocking chair back out of the way. She folded her hands and laid them on the side of the bed letting her head rest upon them. Then she prayed. She prayed fervently for his recovery, both physically and emotionally. She prayed until her knees were numb from being on the hard floor and only then did she rise and resume her former post.

One more time, she brought her hand to cover his and she lightly ran it up his arm letting it linger on his shoulder. A conversation from her childhood drifted back to her now. Her father had left for the hospital and Michaela as usual had begged to go with him. Yet it was not feasible today and as she sat pouting on the bottom stair, her mother had tried to explain to her why women don't pursue things like becoming a doctor. Still she had dug her heels in, insisting that she would one day be a doctor. "Michaela it's impossible. It's like trying to catch the wind. You can't do it!"

A soft laugh escaped her mouth at the memory. It was like trying to catch the wind but she had done it. She had become a doctor, she had caught the wind. Her eyes lingered over Sully's face. This was the same. At moments it felt impossible that he would walk again, that he would fully recover but it wasn't. It was like trying to catch the wind and she had done that once before.

"Sully," she whispered. "I will do everything in my power to make you well. I won't let you give up. I promise…." Her voice drifted off as she studied his face. Swiftly, she leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to his forehead. As her lips touched him, a warmth flooded inside of her and she felt her breath catch in her throat. She shivered at what the mere presence of this man made her feel. Returning to her chair, she couldn't help but smile to herself. She was a wind catcher and now the chase was on once again.

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_Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this first part. Thank you to Ashley for suggesting this storyline. More to come..._

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. The rights to those characters and to the show belong to the creators of the show, to CBS, The Sullivan Company and to A&E.**

**Chasing the Wind**

_This is a three part short that explores Michaela and Sully's thoughts during the episode Running Ghost with a continuation of the ending._

The sky was still dark though lightening some in the east as the sun's first rays began to peek over the horizon. Already the stars had slipped away and the moon was now like a ghostly orb hanging in the sky. Sully sat on the edge of Michaela's bed, the quilt pulled around his shoulders to keep the early morning chill out. No one else was awake yet and for that Sully was grateful. He needed this time to think, to make plans for the day. Soon Michaela would be up and by then he needed to know exactly what he was doing. She would oppose him each step of the way and that was why it was so important to have his mind firmly set.

Reaching out his hand, he touched the rocking chair as his memory drifted back over the last few weeks. He still remembered the first night he had awoken to see Michaela dozing in this chair, pulled closely to the side of the bed so that she could keep watch over him. Even then in his state of depression, he had been moved by her concern, though puzzled at the same time. Was it really possible that she felt something for him more than friendship? The depression had quickly answered that for him – even if she had at one time, she wouldn't anymore.

That afternoon, she had arrived home interrupting his story about Running Ghost to Brian and Colleen. The door flew open and his eyes immediately went to her, wondering what he would see there. She smiled and acted as if nothing was wrong but he believed it to only be a façade, a doctor's manners. Was it possible to want someone near but far away at the same time? Was it possible to need someone and not need them all at once?

She held answers- answers about his future and he needed her to tell him, he needed to hear the truth. Would he ever heal? Was his condition permanent? Yet when she actually came to his bedside, he found he couldn't raise his eyes to meet hers at first. New questions started to flood through his mind. The same questions that had visited him in the darkness of the night. The same questions he didn't want to think about. If he looked at her now that they were alone, what would he see?

Her face - that seemed to captivate him and take his breath away each time his eyes fell upon her visage. Her mouth - that when it smiled at him made the whole world seem like a brighter place. Those eyes – penetrating deep into his soul making his heart race and his breath quicken. That hair flowing endlessly down her back that he longed to bury his face in. Those hands which held such healing in their touch. Swallowing hard, he knew none of this mattered. It wouldn't matter what he saw, only what she saw.

"Sully." He breathed in deeply, wanting to look at her but still unable. His name had always felt so safe rolling off her lips and this time was no exception but still he could not let himself believe that she didn't already view him differently. "I know you're upset," she continued. "No one can blame you, but these injuries take time." Time – these injuries take time. Did she actually believe he would recover?

Raising his head, he cast his first furtive glance at her. "Tell me the truth Dr. Mike, will I heal?"

She lowered her eyes briefly before looking back up at him, the worry evident on her face. "I don't know," she admitted, her eyes searching his for any sign of hope.

"What are my odds?"

"Truth?" she asked again breaking his gaze for a moment.

Yes he needed to know, he needed her to say that there was some chance, some small distant chance. Yet even if there wasn't, he needed to know that as well. "Truth," he assured her.

"I have no idea."

The look of fear on her face, the words coming out of her mouth sent frustration flooding through his body, as he struggled to make sense of all that was happening. He was angry, angrier than he had been in a long time and he brought his hand down hard on the headboard feeling the need to strike out at something, at anything. No longer could he meet her eyes. She knew- she knew he would never walk again.

"Now wait a minute… you could start healing in a matter of days or weeks," she said, a forced optimism in her voice.

"Or not at all," he grunted, his despondency growing deeper by the second. Why was she saying this? Why was she teasing him with this possibility of recovery? Why was she leading him astray with this false hope?

"It could take even months," she admitted. Sully shook his head still unable to wrap his mind around all that had occurred. The anger flooded though him again. Anger at Rankin, at the railroad, at the United States government. Anger that those who should protect others seldom did. Someone needed to pay and he wanted to be the one to make them pay.

Suddenly, her presence was too much and he needed to be alone, to grapple with this alone. Yet Michaela was determined to be optimistic, to make him see that the situation wasn't hopeless. "But there are things we could do to speed up the process," she said already moving into action.

Sully felt her pull the quilt off of him, exposing his legs - the legs that didn't work anymore. Tugging at his nightshirt, he felt suddenly embarrassed by his helpless state. "What are ya doin'?"

"We need to keep the legs healthy in case the spinal cord is healing." Her hands wrapped around his calf, massaging the muscle.

Sully tensed when he saw her kneading his leg, the legs that didn't work - the legs that might never work. He swallowed hard wondering how it would feel to have her touch him like this and actually feel it. But wasn't that the whole point- that he couldn't feel it. He would never be a whole man again. "You're just wasting your time. I can't feel anything," he threw out as the depression overtook him once more.

"Oh, that's not the point. We have to keep the muscles strong, stimulate the blood circulation," she tried to explain, keeping her voice light and cheerful. She moved her hand further up his leg and grabbed the underside of his thigh. It was too much for him now. Her eyes flew up to meet his and he thought he saw only pity reflected there.

What he missed were the flushed cheeks, the enlarged nostrils and the nervous flutters in her stomach. In her mind, she was telling herself to be professional but she couldn't help but feel something at this intimate contact. She stilled her hands for a minute as their eyes met once again and she resolved herself to be professional, to treat him as she would any other patient.

It was too much for him though. Her presence was too much for him. It served as a reminder that he would never have a normal life again. Her touch was too much for him. It reminded him that he would never feel an intimate touch again. "I don't want to do this right now." Reaching for her hand, he pushed her away from his legs. "I just wanna be by myself."

Hastily she pulled her hands away, dropping her head. Good he thought I don't want to see the pity there. I don't want her to care because I'm injured... I want her to care because... was he willing to even admit to himself that he wanted her to care at all?

It was easier to simply push her away and so he did. He didn't see the hurt he had caused because he was only focused on his own feelings. "Don't go feelin' sorry for me," he lashed out at her, a sickening feeling invading his stomach.

She turned with fire flashing in her eyes and he found her gaze too intense. "I'll make you a deal. I won't feel sorry for you, as long as you stop feeling sorry for yourself." Her words stung because he knew they rang with truth. Yet who was she to tell him not to feel sorry for himself. She wasn't lying in a bed helpless, dependent on others, dependent on the one woman he wanted to be strong for. If he had his way, she would have left him alone. She would have given up on him as he had already given up on the chance to be healed.

Yet during the whole ordeal she had never given up. Each day she would remark about any small progress that he had made. As if she was chasing the wind, she pushed on full steam ahead often neglecting her time at the clinic to take him to the hot springs or to help him exercise. Again he looked at the chair and ran his fingers across the grain, remembering the night he woke to find her crying. He lay completely still when he realized she was awake, trying to keep his breathing regular. Her head rested on her hands and soft sobs escaped her mouth. Despair set in on Sully deeper than ever because he believed that Michaela had now given up as well.

As if she knew what he was thinking, as if she was speaking specifically to answer his doubts, he heard her whisper into the darkness. "Please let him believe that he can catch the wind. Please give him some small sign of hope. I know he is going to get better but he doesn't believe it." Sully swallowed hard as he heard her voice reaching out to God, asking for a miracle. She still believed - she was crying because he didn't. The words echoed in his mind, "Let him believe he can catch the wind." The Cheyenne called the wind their grandmother who brought the life giving rains that nourished the land. Her words seemed odd to Sully and he wondered if she knew about grandmother wind.

Looking back, he couldn't be sure what changed in him at that moment. Was it that she believed he would heal? Or was it that she wanted him to believe? Or was it simply that she cared so much? It didn't matter because even then he knew something had changed inside of himself. The despair was still there but a small flicker of hope arose trying to drive it away. For the first time in many nights, he slept peacefully without fitful dreams of a useless life.

Whether or not she could see that change in him the next morning he wasn't sure but he wanted her to. He didn't protest at all as she mixed the salve for Matthew to spread onto his legs. He raised his eyes to meet hers, silently willing her to know that he wanted to believe just like she did. Her face did not change though she dropped her eyes and he wished then that he could bring himself to tell her because he feared she hadn't noticed the change in him.

"They moved, they moved… your toes, they moved!" She was pointing at his foot, her excitement palpable. "Concentrate," she instructed him as all eyes in the room turned to watch his feet.

He concentrated with every fiber of his being, willing this first sign of hope to be true as much for her as for himself. They moved again, wiggling against the air as he felt tingles begin to shoot through his leg. "They sure did," he said in relief as the happiness spread throughout the room.

"You're going to be walking sooner than you know it," she said excitedly, her own joy uncontainable.

Sully saw the expression on her face. He wanted more than anything to be part of that joy and for a brief moment he was. "Good," he said a smile beaming across her lips as their eyes met. The smile did not fade but the moment of his first triumph was marked by another emotion as well. The anger returned but not anger at his predicament, anger at the man who had first caused it. Looking at Michaela he wanted to feel the pure elation that showed on her face but he couldn't, so he looked away. His eyes went to his feet which would soon walk across the floor on their own. The need to get even, the need for revenge was welling up inside of him, strong and fierce. "Good, I've got things I need to do," he added to his previous statement.

That was the first night he could remember that Michaela hadn't slept beside him in the chair. Instead, she crawled into bed with Colleen, which Sully knew was better for her. Still he missed her presence beside him when he awoke. He missed the way her face looked in the low light of the lamp. He missed the soft sound of her breathing only feet away from him. Now that he knew life would return to normal, he tried to make sense of how he felt about her, only to find himself more confused then ever.

Part of that confusion had to do with the emotions that he found whirling around inside his brain, competing for control. When he first tried walking again, he wanted it so badly. With one arm around Matthew and the other around Michaela he had walked out of the house and down the steps. She was so protective of him wanting him to rest. He had insisted on trying for himself, on proving he could do it on his own. Sully wanted to believe that it was for her, he was trying so hard after she had tried so hard for him but he knew that was only partially true. The real driving force had now become his anger, his desire for revenge. It only grew eating at him more and more as the days passed. As if feeding off of each other, it grew as his strength returned.

There were moments when it wasn't so bad. Moments when he looked at her and felt all of those emotions flood away as the light from her eyes poured into his soul and illuminated the darkness that had invaded. A specific evening came to mind even now as he sat thinking about it. They had just finished dinner and he had risen to retrieve more firewood. Of course she wouldn't let him, insisting that the doctor knew best. Brian had remarked at how lucky they were to have a doctor as a ma. Lucky? Was that what he was – lucky? Lucky to have someone like Dr. Mike in his life? He had never felt lucky before, often he felt cursed. "You're lucky alright," he had agreed turning his eyes up to her and seeing that slightly embarrassed look on her face. Their eyes met and it had happened, the darkness left him.

For a while that evening, he allowed himself to believe that the darkness was gone for good. As he told the children about Running Ghost, as his eyes met hers every few moments, things seemed almost normal, routine. It was too good to be true though, for once the house had settled down to sleep he realized that the darkness had not fled at all. It still lingered in the corners of his mind, ready to reemerge and control him anew.

When she had returned last night with news that Rankin had been in town, his heart beat out a fast and furious rhythm within his chest. Rankin knew he was alive and would certainly come after him. But more than that Rankin needed to pay for what he was doing to the Cheyenne, for what he had done to him. He was stronger, maybe not as strong as usual but he was strong enough. The anger that flowed within him would only serve to increase whatever strength he had.

Michaela wouldn't like this, he knew but he had no choice. This was something he had to do. She didn't realize that she along with the family was in danger if he stayed here. That was the last thing he wanted. And still the single focus of his mind returned once again. Rankin needed to pay for what he had done. Someone needed to make him pay.

When the time came for him to leave, the sky had clouded over and a gentle rain was falling. All morning, Michaela had protested but he had ignored her. She wouldn't understand and he didn't feel the need to change her mind, to make her see the situation as he saw it. They would simply disagree. Yet still she persisted following him out to his horse that Matthew had readied.

"It's too soon for you to be riding," she argued as he left the house.

"I can't stay here anymore." He looked back at her as Matthew handed him the reigns. Why didn't she understand?

"Why? How do you know they're coming after you?" she asked as if he wasn't making any sense.

"Because you told them I was still alive," he pointed out abruptly, instantly regretting it when he heard and saw her reaction.

"I'm sorry," Michaela replied contritely, dropping her head as if shamed.

"It's alright," Sully assured her. He didn't want her to feel bad. Couldn't she see that this was inevitable? "They had to find out sooner or later." Her eyes clouded over as Matthew explained about the man he had seen watching the house just this morning. And for one brief moment Sully really thought she understood the danger they were all in. "There's only one way to end this," he told her.

"If you think you're in any condition to take on Rankin." A sudden fire burned in her eyes as if she was determined to stop him at all costs. But it waged against the fire that had been burning in Sully for weeks now and there was no comparison between the two.

"The Cheyenne are about to start a war. The army is keeping them on the reservation. Rankin goes, the army goes with 'em, no war, nobody gets hurt." His voice was rational and calm as his eyes continued to lock with hers.

"They'll just send more hunters. What are you going to do? Kill them all?" She continued grasping at straws. Fear was written on her face and he knew that fear was for his life, but still he couldn't turn aside from his chosen path.

"Thank you for taking care of me." There was so much more he wanted to say. Somehow just saying that didn't seem like enough. She had helped him get his life back and now he was going to risk it once more. The possibility that he would never see her again ran through his mind and he felt the need to embrace her or something but he held back.

"Sully, don't do this," she warned stubbornly.

"I got to." At that moment, he feared she had seen the anger and revenge in his eyes. He had tried so hard to remain calm and rationale, to lead her to believe that he was thinking with a level head and not simply acting on pure emotion. He turned toward Matthew quickly breaking eye contact with her. "Take care of the wolf for me." And with that he mounted his horse. A sharp pain shot through his body as he jostled his still tender ribs but he ignored it.

Michaela wasn't done yet. She had to try one more time. "If you kill Rankin, you're no better than he is." The words stung him. He knew she meant for them to. They were words aimed at his heart, at his character. She was trying everything she knew to dissuade him. "If that's what you have in mind, I... I don't know who you are anymore." He swallowed hard as she confirmed what he had feared. She knew. "I've never seen you like this. If you kill him, I never want to see you again. Never."

Sully let out a deep sigh. As much as he didn't want that, nothing at that moment could stop him. The fire raged out of control inside of him and nothing could quench it except him making Rankin pay for his crimes.

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_Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the second part of this short. The third and final part will be out this weekend (hopefully before). _


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. The rights to those characters and to the show belong to the creators of the show, to CBS, The Sullivan Company and to A&E.**

**Chasing the Wind Part III**

_This is three part short that explores Michaela and Sully's thoughts during the episode Running Ghost._

After outsmarting Mr. Birch at his own game, Michaela knew she should feel pleased with herself and she did for a few moments. Yet inside, her mind whirled with thoughts of Sully and his quest to stop Rankin. She had never seen him so set on getting revenge on someone and that frightened her more than she even wanted to admit. The last few weeks she had done everything in her power to make him well and now it was as if he could care less. The same anger that had surged inside of her when Sully rode off, threatened to overtake her again. He was so selfish, not even thinking about her or the children.

Michaela paused at this last thought. Why should he be thinking about her or the children? He had no reason to; there was no commitment to them. Sure she had saved his life but did he see that as simply something she would have done for anyone? He didn't know her thoughts or feelings, how often she had cried and prayed for him to get better. How could she expect him to make a decision based on her and the children when there was no reason for him to?

Trying not to think about him and what might be happening, she rode out of town planning on going home. Her mind seemed to have its own plans thought and she found her thoughts constantly drawn back to Sully. The last words that she had spoken to him had been so angry. "I never want to see you again," seemed to echo in her mind. They had been hasty words, words she only half meant, words meant to keep him from doing something he would regret. They hadn't made a difference in the end and so why should she care so much? He certainly didn't seem to.

Turning Flash off the main road, she found herself riding in the direction of the reservation without giving it much thought. They moved along slowly, Michaela letting Flash set the pace as she tried her best to remain objective about the situation. Before she knew it though, she found herself stopping, dismounting Flash and looking out at the scenery. Where was Sully? What was happening to him? Whether or not he cared, she couldn't simply turn her feelings off. No one made her feel the things Sully did and she couldn't simply leave him out there alone even if he returned none of her feelings.

Now with resolve, she swiftly mounted Flash and rode quickly towards the reservation. She would seek out the help of the Cheyenne, knowing they would seek out Sully with her and maybe with Cloud Dancing's help they could talk some sense into him. With her mind firmly set, she was anxious to be at the Reservation and felt frustrated that she still had so much ground to cover. Tears began to form in her eyes but she hastily wiped them away telling herself now was not the time; she had to be strong for Sully.

The ground rumbled with Flash's hooves and a group of small children turned to look at her as she approached the reservation. Seeing the lady doctor riding so quickly alarmed them and they began to race along beside her yelling for Cloud Dancing or Chief Black Kettle as they did so. She slowed as she approached the tepees, halting near the two men. "Sully's going after Rankin... I want you to help me find him and stop him."

Cloud Dancing turned and translated for the Chief. Michaela watched on anxiously, simply assuming they would agree to help. "We can not do that," Cloud Dancing replied.

"Why?" Michaela was stunned – how could they turn their back on Sully when he had risked his life for them. They just didn't understand the gravity of the situation she thought – she needed to make them understand. "He's barely strong enough to walk. He could get killed this time."

"This has become Sully's fight now. We cannot interfere." Cloud Dancing spoke firmly, his gaze directed right at her. She felt the strength of his words resonating through her body as her anger grew directly in response. Men- she thought to herself – stubborn and prideful. Her eyes were full of fire as she turned back to look at him.

"If he doesn't get killed, he is going to be arrested for murder. Why won't you help me save him?"

"Since the army has come we cannot leave the reservation. If we do, we start a war." Michaela heard his words and she knew they were true. Sully had argued the same thing practically when she had been so adamant that he not leave. It was only then that she realized she was asking the impossible. How could she be so selfish as to take away husbands and sons who needed to protect their own wives and children? She cast her eyes down feeling suddenly ashamed of her actions, of her insistence for their help. They had a tribe to think of, not just one man.

Black Kettle began to speak and she looked over at him. His eyes were full of compassion and she knew in that instant that if there was anyway that he could help, he would. Courage flooded her soul as Cloud Dancing confirmed her thoughts. "Black Kettle says we will do all we can to save him."

"And so will I," she replied, sitting up straighter on Flash and taking the reigns in her hands.

Her eyes locked with Cloud Dancing's once more. "You must find him," he said. Michaela felt as if his words were penetrating her soul. "You- are the only one he will listen to."

With that she was gone, digging her heels hard into Flash's side as her heart beat out a strong cadence. You are the only one he will listen to. The words seemed to pound through her veins. Was Cloud Dancing right? Was this true? What kind of magic pull did she have on Sully? Certainly not much, he hadn't listened to her the first time after all. Yet none of that seemed to matter at this instant, all that mattered was finding Sully – was stopping Sully.

The wind whipped through her hair as she tore across the flatland on Flash headed for the hills on the other side. Her skirt was draped neatly over the back of Flash as she lowered her body, leaning far out over her neck, urging her on at a faster and faster rate. Again she dug her heels sharply into her side, spurring her on as she felt that she was getting close now. Her ears were alert for any sound that he might be nearby. And then it happened. A gunshot rang out. She pulled Flash to a stop and turned her in the direction of the sound. Please let him be okay she prayed. Please let him be okay.

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There were no regrets in his mind as Sully rode out to Rankin's camp. The sun was at his back seeming to push him on. He stopped several feet away from the tents and dismounted quietly, hoping to catch them unaware. Sneaking up silently under a nearby tree, he took a deep breath and felt as if he was breathing in pure power. Only once did he hesitate, only once did he see Michaela's face and hear her last words. And then pushing everything aside, he moved in. The adrenaline pumping through his veins allowed him to make short work of the first and second man. Each was now lying on the ground, semi-conscious but unmoving. He had kicked the last guy in the chin and he found that after such exertion, his side began to hurt again.

Covering the tender spot with his hand, he began to look around. Where was Rankin? He wanted this over with and quickly. A gunshot rang out and he looked off towards the horizon in the direction of the sound. It was time for him to go and finally have his revenge on this man who had caused so much trouble for himself and the Cheyenne. Yet with each step it became more and more obvious that he was weak, weaker than he wanted to be. Michaela's face again came to his mind and instead of pushing it away he allowed his thoughts to dwell on her for a moment. The tears, the prayer, the encouragement – she had made him well and now what was he doing? Providentially another gunshot rang out and his mind quickly refocused on what he had come here to do.

Again, he mounted his horse as the pain seared through him only making him all the more determined. A strange thing happened now. He felt strangely alive and living in a long line of warriors. It was as if the whole of the Cheyenne nation stood behind him and he could feel their presence with him. He didn't know that they sent fervent prayers up in his regard but he felt it anyway. Rankin came into view as he crested the hill and he dug his heels into the horse's side, rushing at this man as a pure hatred seemed to well up within his heart. He was scaring himself now with that hatred but it he could not stop it even if he tried.

Rankin turned pointing the gun at him but his eyes seemed to deceive him. He knew that only a man came at him- a weak man at that, but the sun was casting shadows or something. He blinked his eyes again and again, unable to make the shot, unable to believe what he saw. Sully raised his tomahawk high in the air, his heart beating quickly within him as Rankin's face came into view. His face was set and determined as he brought it down flat upon Rankin's head knocking him onto the ground. Quickly he turned the horse and rode back towards him, jumping off so that he landed on top of him. They tousled on the ground for a moment before each once again gained their feet. Rankin pulled a knife and Sully saw its gleam in the sun as he thrust it towards him.

Quickly, Sully wheeled around so that Rankin just missed him and they now stood opposite of each other again. "Come on, make your move," Sully uttered low, his eyes boring into his opponents. Again, the courage of the Cheyenne seemed to be with him and whether that drove him to ignore the pain or whether it was the hatred that still writhed within his chest he didn't know. Rankin thrust the knife at him again and Sully moved away just in time, staying low to the ground.

"This time – I'm gonna kill ya!" Rankin breathed out murderously as he threw the knife at him. It was only at that moment that he realized the truth of Michaela's words – you are no better than he is. He saw the hatred in Rankin's face and he suddenly wondered if his own face looked the same. This wasn't what he wanted but now things were out of hand. Rankin came at him pushing him onto the ground as he punched him hard in the mouth. He felt the warm gush of blood before he tasted it. His senses seemed overwhelmed for a moment until he once again realized this situation was life and death.

Sully managed to throw him off but the taste of his own blood had set his anger soaring again. He jumped on top of him punching once and then twice, wanting to wrap his hands around the man's neck and squeeze until he saw the life leave his eyes. He grabbed for his tomahawk and as he held it up and looked down at this man that he hated, he stopped. This wasn't him – Michaela was right. He brought the tomahawk down hard near Rankin's right ear so that he drew blood without serious injury.

His breath was coming in short pants now. Sully saw the fear in Rankin's eyes and suddenly that was enough – going any further would not make him feel better. "Ya be gone by morning and take nothing with ya," he directed at Rankin who was still shaken from the tomahawk blow. Sully stood albeit shakily still hold ing the tomahawk in his hand. "I ever see ya again and I will kill ya," he breathed out before replacing the weapon on his belt. He turned and hoisted himself up on his horse, the pain more intense than ever but he didn't mind it so much. It made him think of Michaela in that he knew she could soothe away the pain and that she would. He would tell her how he let Rankin go and he wouldn't have to see the disappointment in her eyes as he had when he had ridden away from the homestead.

Rankin was not done though and saw his chance to act now. Quickly, he picked up his gun aiming it at Sully as he rode away. A noise startled him and he turned quickly firing the gun at whatever was moving towards him. Sully heard the rumble of the ground, the sound of running buffalo. He turned as the gun went off again and again. It was all over in a moment; Rankin was dead on the ground clearly gored by a buffalo. Sully watched as some shadow moved off across the plains and he knew that the spirit that he had felt with him had been that of the Cheyenne people and their beloved buffalo. It was over, it was all over and he was going home. Home – that seemed like a strange word to say and even stranger still when he realized that he meant the old homestead. That he meant home to Michaela.

His head dropped low over the horse's neck as the pain in his side became more and more intense. His heart seemed to scream out for Michaela now and he wasn't sure how he would make it all the way back to the homestead in his current state. A vision appeared before him, the sun playing some evil trick upon his eyes. He saw here there, he heard the neigh of Flash but he didn't believe it to be real. A few steps further he urged the horse on as he sat up straight trying to make out her form and wondering if he was only hallucinating.

Michaela saw him, his head hung low over the horse's neck and she felt relief and panic all at the same time. Swallowing hard, she urged Flash on stopping again when Sully stopped his own horse. As he raised his head their eyes met and though the distance between them was still great, it suddenly felt much smaller. Michaela felt her heart quicken within her. Her mouth went dry as she tried to ascertain what she saw on his face – was it fear or pain or relief. And then he was bending his head low again, and lying down on the horse as he tried to dismount. He fell hard against the ground and Michaela urged Flash to close the distance between them. She pulled the horse to a stop as Sully looked up at her again and she recognized in his face that he was glad to see her, more than glad really.

Sully felt as if he might pass out, the pain was so great now but the need to see Michaela, to talk to Michaela kept him alert as his eyes hungrily caressed her face. She was dismounting and running towards him as he bowed his head with the intensity of the moment. Throwing herself down on the ground beside him, her skirt flowing out around her she touched his shoulder and he looked up once again.

"Sully," she breathed out. Safe, he thought. I'm safe. She's here and I am so safe; maybe safer than I have ever been in my whole life. He could see the questions in her eyes and he knew what she needed to know.

"It's over," he said finding it suddenly hard to breath. He wasn't sure if that had to do with the pain in his side or his proximity to her.

"Tell me you didn't kill him," she pleaded; an unparalleled desperation in her voice.

He raised his eyes to meet hers once more. "I didn't." He could hear how labored his voice was and he wasn't even sure at that moment that he had spoken. He shook his head. "I didn't," he said again before collapsing upon the ground and rolling towards her. His eyes were closed for a moment and he felt the softness of her skirt envelope him as he turned full circle and the sun hit his face once more. "I didn't kill him," he breathed out again, seeing the relief upon her face.

Michaela breathed out happily, the tears already collecting in her eyes but she held them back. She looked skyward and closed them for a minute breathing out a silent prayer of thanksgiving. Thank you for bringing him back to me alive – thank you for bringing him back to me as the man I know – the man I love. Love. She breathed out a shaky breath and swallowed hard. Did she really love him? She had said is so freely in her prayer as if it was an undisputed fact. What did she know about love? Did she even know how it should feel? Certainly, this didn't feel like anything she had experienced before.

She looked down at him, his head cradled in her lap and she couldn't help but bring her hands to touch him. One lay upon his chest while the other hand entwined in his hair, running in and out of the thickness she found there. His warmth seemed to flow through her now as their eyes locked again.

"Michaela," he breathed out, looking up at her his face contorted with pain. The sound of her given name, rolling off his lips for the first time ever, sounded like a sweet melody. She wanted to ask him to say it again and again. Her breath quickened in excitement. "Dr. Mike," he corrected himself hoping she hadn't even noticed. Yet suddenly this sounded too formal. He felt stuck uncertain how to continue, how to go on. Looking up at her, he wanted to believe that his destiny lie in these arms that now held him but he felt scared and unsure yet safe. How can you feel safe and scared all at the same time he asked himself but he found no answer. That was simply what he felt and he would have to accept it.

"What is it, Sully?" she said acting as if everything that had just happened was completely normal. "Are you in much pain?"

He nodded and rubbed his side as he felt Michaela lift up his shirt to examine the area. Her hands were soft upon his flesh and he closed his eyes heightening his other senses. Her long hair brushed his bare skin eliciting goose bumps. Her fingers were causing pain yet soothing him at the same time. The smell of her was intoxicating and he felt as if he could lay right here for the rest of his life.

"I think you've re-broken one," she informed him, her voice that of a doctor. "I'll get you back to the homestead so I can wrap it properly." He felt her begin to move, to lift his head from her lap.

"No," he whispered placing a hand on her shoulder. "Not yet."

Michaela was ready to protest but when she looked down at his face, she was compelled not to. She smiled down at him again entwining her hand in his hair and letting herself savor the fact that he was alive and in her arms. She wanted to press her body close to him, to cover his face with kisses and she blushed heavily with the thought.

"What is it?" he asked noticing the tinge to her cheeks and her heavily hooded eyes.

"It's nothing," she whispered turning her head to the side.

Sully was having a hard time making sense of all that was happening but that didn't even bother him. He began to speak now, his words coming fast as if they were being pushed out of him. "Michaela, when I was going after Rankin – the thoughts inside of me – it wasn't me. I wasn't in control."

"I know," she whispered rocking him gently. "I know." Her hand came up to lightly touch the split in his lip. "Does this hurt?" she asked wanting to take away all his pain.

"Not so much," he replied. She did not remove her fingers but traced the outline of his lips with them, telling herself that she was acting as a doctor when she clearly knew otherwise. "I'm sorry," he whispered taking her by surprise.

"For what?" Her voice was soft and gentle like the breeze that blew upon them.

"For being so selfish. You gave everythin' to get me well and I just rode off like it didn't matter."

"It's okay,' she assured him. "I understand now why you felt like you had to."

"It was like chasing the wind," he whispered waiting to gage the reaction on her face.

"Why would you say that?" she hastily asked as her breath caught in her throat at his words.

"It's impossible- you can't do it. I couldn't get revenge on Rankin. It ain't my place to make people pay for their crimes and if I had tried, I wouldn't have felt any better."

Michaela smiled. "True," she agreed. "But you did catch the wind- you recovered. I wasn't sure you would," she admitted to him for the first time.

"Thank you," he breathed. "For never giving up on me – for chasing the wind even when I didn't want to." Michaela nodded noticing how low the sun was sinking. Practically she knew they should head back to town but still she didn't. There was something magical about the moment and she couldn't break it, at least not yet.

He felt the same magic and in his weakened state, he almost felt as if he could tell her his heart. He wanted to reveal his secret thoughts to her, to say that he loved her or at least thought that he loved her. "Thank you for being my friend," was all he could manage though. She covered his hand with her own and he interlaced their fingers, this one motion meaning more than all the words they could say.

"Best friends?" she whispered. He wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement at first. The sun's rays had sunk low now but it seemed as if her face still glowed in the fast approaching dusk.

"Best friends," he assured her. Michaela felt the tingles inside radiating upward making her smile widely. Sully did something she didn't expect then and she watched the whole scenario as if standing outside of herself. He slowly raised their intertwined hands to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles before lowering them again.

The night grew around them but neither moved. Their eyes were locked with each others as they each reveled in unspoken thoughts. They didn't need to be said now. There was time – there were other days. For now they could just be close and enjoy the moment. Stars began to twinkle in the sky and still Sully rested with his head in her lap, his thumb gently stroking hers. Lightening bugs glowed around them and crickets called out to one another. The wind picked up blowing Michaela's hair and scattering her essence on the wind. Their hearts each felt the connection – they were both wind chasers and somehow they had managed to find each other.

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_I am finally finished! Okay I have rewritten this chapter more than any other except for maybe Part III of Morning Dreams but I am happy to finally be able to give it to you. Hope you enjoy – thanks for reading. Thank you to Ashley for the storyline!_


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